Surrender

by Lisa Renee Jones

  I nod and he walks out of the room, which hits me as interesting. He never talks business in front of Marabella, so what are the lines he’s drawn with her? What does she know and not know?

  “Anything else before I leave?” Marabella asks. “I can swing by and clean up later.”

  “I’ll do it,” I say, eager to regain some privacy. “You’ve done enough.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. Thank you for breakfast.”

  “Okay. If you don’t get time, I’ll be here tomorrow.” She tilts her head. “You feel good?”

  “Yes, good as new now. Well, except for a few holes in my memory.”

  “Did you talk to Nathan about that thing with the journal?”

  “I did. He says these things are normal with amnesia. I’m improving, and that’s what’s important.”

  “That’s good.” She starts to turn away. “One thing. Giada really wants both of us to go shopping with her for her new place.”

  “When?”

  “Friday.”

  Two days from now. I’m not sure I feel good about anyone going shopping this week, and Kayden and I need to talk about protecting Giada and Marabella. “I should know tomorrow if I can make it happen.”

  “It will make Giada so very happy. I won’t tell her until we’re certain, though.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, watching her disappear, fairly certain we have to get her and Giada on lockdown for now.

  I stand and carry the plates to the sink, taking care of the mess by the time Kayden returns.

  “Carlo seems to have a solid handle on dealing with the aftermath of Alessandro’s demise,” he says, joining me on my side of the island and leaning against it. “We’re going to sit down in the next few days and hammer it all out.”

  “What about Niccolo’s second-in-command?” I ask, leaning against the counter directly across from him.

  “The drug goes in his drink tonight, and he shouldn’t wake up tomorrow.”

  I hug myself. “That’s good,” I say, though the word good chokes in my throat.

  “Ella—”

  “I don’t need coddling, Kayden. I don’t like calling death good, but sometimes it is. Sometimes monsters have to die.”

  “Monsters always have to die, sweetheart. Because if they’re really monsters, they can’t be saved.”

  “I know,” I say. “Believe me, I know. And changing the subject: what can I say and not say in front of Marabella?”

  “Anything that extends beyond basic hunting, keep to yourself.”

  “Enzo wasn’t basic hunting.”

  “Enzo made a mistake while hunting,” he reminds me.

  “Should we get her and Giada under lock and key until this is over?”

  “The last thing we want is Niccolo seeing us act suspiciously when his second dies. I have men watching both of them. Now, I’m changing the subject. Adriel tells me you pressed for Matteo to check the security system.”

  “I did. I still don’t think I tore those pages from my journal.”

  “We’ll spend tonight going through the security feed together.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t discounting my concerns.”

  “There is nothing about anything you do, say, or think that invites me to discount any concern you can’t shake.” His cell phone buzzes with a text and he glances at the screen, then me. “Blake and Adriel just pulled into the garage.”

  He motions for me to follow and we head out of the kitchen.

  “Isn’t this earlier than expected?”

  “Apparently, Blake called Adriel for help and needed an early pickup. He was being followed, and he didn’t know the city well enough to ensure he broke free without support.”

  “We didn’t even get time to talk about what to discuss with him,” I say as we head down the stairs. “Is his wife with him?”

  “She distracted the person following Blake, and stayed behind.”

  “Where are we meeting him?”

  “Right here in the office,” he says as we reach the foyer. “I don’t want him getting the run of the castle.” He looks at me. “Leave the necklace out of things, and the part where we dispose of our enemies. But to protect Sara, he needs to know that there’s dirty CIA and the mob involved.”

  “Dirty CIA?”

  “Yes. Someone set you and your father up.” He punches the button on the wall and the door begins to lift.

  A minute later, Adriel and Blake are standing in the archway. Today must be “black” day, because they’re both wearing the uniform as well. Blake and Kayden lock stares, and I don’t know what passes between them, but what concludes seems to be some sort of mutual respect, even if it’s temporary. Adriel gives Kayden a nod, and then disappears. Kayden motions Blake into the tower and seals us inside.

  “This is an absolutely fucking amazing place,” Blake says as we move into the office.

  Kayden simply motions him to the seating area, where Kayden and I sit on the couch.

  Blake sits to my left, angling toward us and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His intense brown eyes look at me. “Are you safe?”

  “As safe as I ever am.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m not what I seem.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I need to make sure Sara is safe.”

  “You have my attention, and my resources. My men are the best of the best. Those with me on this trip are ex-FBI and ex-SEAL.”

  We tell him the story, including my fake life that brought me together with Sara. Blake asks a lot of good, thoughtful questions that do much to give me confidence in his ability to protect her. “All right, then,” he says. “And I take it you aren’t going to tell me what this is ultimately about, or how you plan to resolve it?”

  “Not a chance in hell,” Kayden says.

  “Right to the fucking point,” Blake says. “I respect that. Now. How long are Chris and Sara in danger?”

  “We don’t know that they are in danger,” Kayden says. “But we want to keep it that way.”

  “I could get them on a plane out of Paris tonight,” Blake says, “but that’s going to get press, since Chris is headlining a huge charity event at the Louvre Saturday night.”

  “That’s three days from now, counting Saturday,” I say. “That’s too long. I want them out of there.”

  “No,” Kayden says. “If they skip that show, it tells Neuville that Sara is important to you. We don’t want her getting on his radar, because once that happens she won’t get off.”

  “Kayden, I don’t like this,” I say.

  “Trust me, sweetheart. This is no different from not going on lockdown here. We need to act like all things are as usual.”

  “Sara’s been on Neuville’s radar in the past,” Blake says. “He had her followed at one point, thinking she would lead him to Ella, and there was even a confrontation between Sara, Chris, and Neuville.”

  “When?” Kayden asks.

  “Four months ago,” Blake replies.

  “Then we damn sure don’t want to give him a reason to look at her again,” Kayden says. “But if he’s looked into her in the past, he could be doing it now, and he might well try to grab her. But he could do that in the States, when everyone’s guard is down, too. At least here, you have your men and I’ve got a half dozen to help you.”

  “Are you suggesting we keep them in Paris until you resolve this?” Blake asks.

  “No,” Kayden says. “Get them on a plane Sunday morning. We’ll ensure Neuville is distracted then. If all goes well, I’ll contact you before you land and tell you this is over. But right now, you need to get back to Paris discreetly. I’ll get you on a private jet that wo
n’t be traced. Don’t connect Sara to Ella, and being here now could do that. Protect your client.”

  “I have men in Paris to protect Sara and Chris,” he says. “My client wants me to protect Ella.”

  “I’m CIA, Blake,” I say. “I can handle myself.”

  “Then I’m just a little extra backup,” he offers.

  I reach toward him, yank open his jacket, and take his gun.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  “I can protect myself,” I say.

  “I let you do that,” he counters.

  I offer him his gun. “You did not let me. Protect Sara.”

  He takes his gun and holsters it. “My client—”

  “I’ll pay you double what they’re paying,” Kayden states. “But you protect them—not Ella.”

  “Chris Merit’s a billionaire, man,” he says. “You don’t want to pay me double.”

  “Double,” Kayden repeats.

  “I don’t want your money,” he says. “I know you operate on paydays, but I’m about what’s right.”

  “What’s right,” I say, “is protecting them. Don’t let Sara get hurt because of me.”

  He studies me for several beats. “All right. I’ll go take care of her. But I do not look forward to the moment I tell Chris Merit what’s going on. He’s intense about protecting Sara.”

  “Good,” I say. “If he wasn’t, I’d be concerned.”

  “She’s in good hands with Chris,” he says, narrowing his stare on me. “She was never going to give up on you. She loves you.”

  “She probably won’t after she finds out that everything about me is a lie.”

  “Your friendship is not a lie. I see that clearly. She will, too.” He looks at Kayden. “What about The Jackals? How worried do I need to be about them?”

  “If they show up, I wouldn’t hold my gunfire,” he says.

  Blake gives him a long, hard stare. “Holy fuck. I hired them.” He scrubs his jaw. “How do I get that ride to Paris?”

  Kayden pulls his phone from his pocket and makes a couple of calls. Five minutes later we walk Blake to the garage, where Adriel waits by his Mercedes. Blake walks to the passenger door, but before he gets inside, he turns to me. “My father always told me, kill or be killed. Don’t get killed, Ella.” He disappears into the car, and Kayden and I watch them depart.

  “What distraction is planned for Sunday?” I ask, facing Kayden.

  “Saturday night, we’ll make sure Alessandro gets a lead on the necklace being in Paris,” he says. “He’ll get on a plane and go there. Sunday morning, we’ll make sure Neuville not only finds out Alessandro stole from him, but that he’s in Paris and he has the necklace. I’ll also be in Paris.”

  “So Sunday is the day this all ends?”

  “Yes. The minute I know Sara and Chris are gone, I’m ending this. Sunday is the day.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “No. End of subject.”

  “Kayden, damn it—”

  His hands come down on my shoulders and he pulls me to him. “I’m ending this, Ella. And then we’re getting married.” And any objection I might voice is lost as he kisses me soundly.

  fifteen

  Hours after Blake’s departure, Kayden and I are both in sweatpants and tees, sitting on the bed with several MacBooks in front of us as we take on the tedious process of looking for a security breach. Regardless of the work underway, Kayden and I are together, in our room, in our private space, and it’s cozy, warm, and right. There are brushes of our hands and legs, kisses and laughter as we watch Marabella fret over the messes we’ve made. And neither of us says it, but there is a heaviness in the air, a fear that this weekend will not end well.

  Finally, after several hours, all but done with our review with nothing to show for it, our laughter turns into his hand on my face and a shared, lingering kiss that does me in. I capture his hand. “Let me go with you. No one will have your back like I will. I’m trained. I’m lethal. Test me—”

  “Ella,” he breathes out, a gravelly quality to his voice.

  “Kayden, please.”

  He turns us so that we’re facing each other and holds my hand. “I know how skilled you are. Blake Walker is a skilled ATF agent and far from a rookie, yet you made him look like one.”

  “Then take me with you.”

  “If you go with me, all I’ll be thinking about is your safety.”

  “But you just said you know I have skills,” I argue.

  “This is a man who raped you, Ella. As it is, I’m personally involved. I want to make him suffer. I want to bring someone to his house and watch him get raped. But I won’t. This isn’t about me shutting you out of any operation that ever requires a fight. This is about this fight. I need to know you’re safe. And while I told you I’m going to need some time to get over being protective, this particular case doesn’t even count in the mix of things. It’s a whole different beast. So I’m asking you to please listen to me on this, and not see it as me suffocating you, or having no faith in you, or—”

  I press my lips to his, lingering there a moment as so many emotions expand between us. “I understand,” I whisper, easing back to look at him. “It’s going to be torture to wait for you, but I’ll do it.” My lashes lower and my throat thickens before I look at him again. “I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll come back to you,” he promises. “But he never will. He never will.”

  “I believe you,” I say, remembering my advice to myself: I have to make him stronger, not give him doubts. “You will win. I know that.”

  His phone rings and he grimaces. “Bad timing.”

  “No, it’s business. It’s about ending this. Take the call.”

  My response pleases him. I see this in the admiration in his eyes, which in turn pleases me. It also earns me a fast, hard kiss before he grabs his phone where it rests on the bed, answering it. In the meantime, I refocus on the computer screen and tab through more footage, laughing yet again as Marabella grimaces at one of our messes. Over and over today, she’s entertained us without even knowing she’s doing so. She ignores my journal every time she sees it, passing it by to worry over some dusty or dirty spot, more interested in cleaning and cooking than my inner thoughts.

  “Everything is on target on Carlo’s end,” Kayden says after his call. “He’s stirred buzz among the Paris Jackals that Alessandro stole from them and from Neuville, and our plan to have proof landing in the right hands at the right time still looks right on schedule.”

  “But can he do it without making it seem like a setup?”

  “I didn’t make him a Hunter for no reason, sweetheart,” he says. “The magnificence that is Carlo is in his ability to manipulate people and situations.” He glances at his shiny new Rolex, and I try not to think about that watch delivery. “It’s four o’clock. I don’t know about you, but those pancakes wore off a good hour ago.”

  “I’m starving, for sure,” I say.

  “We could raid the kitchen, but we’re pretty comfortable here. Why don’t I just bring us whatever I can find?”

  “I’d like that,” I agree, just as eager as he is to keep our private little escape alive and well.

  He kisses my forehead, a tender act I’ve come to expect and cherish from him, before he heads toward the door, effortlessly graceful and powerful. I inhale and watch him disappear into the hallway, still bothered by how I’ve felt watched there, and now I just . . . don’t. My lips thin and I turn back to the computer, but this seems almost useless. We’ve found nothing, not even an oddity in the film that might indicate a splicing. And the bathroom and closet have no cameras, so I might have torn the pages out there.

  Still, this nagging feeling that something isn’t right won’t go away, and I start scanning footage again, finishing the last few screen shots we have to review, then starti
ng all over again.

  “I have something for you,” Kayden says, drawing my attention back to the door, where I find him approaching with a book in his hand.

  “That doesn’t look edible.”

  “Not edible,” he says, “but I do think you’ll like it.” He stops beside the bed and hands me what turns out to be a copy of the book Carrie, the same book my father had owned. “I thought it might help you remember more about your father and your past.”

  “I can’t believe you have this. Thank you.”

  “Kevin was a diehard King fan, and he was a big reader. He always said that a good Hunter was an educated Hunter, and that meant reading often and broadly, fiction and nonfiction.” He motions toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it and grab that food.”

  “Okay,” I say, amazed at how he hits every right mark for me.

  He walks away and I call out, “Kayden.”

  He stops at the doorway and turns to me, arching a brow. “Really,” I say, holding up the book. “Thank you for this. It feels like a little piece of him right here in Italy.”

  “I’m glad,” he says softly, giving me a tiny nod and then disappearing.

  I turn my attention to the book and start flipping through pages, and in my mind, I see so very much. I grab a piece of paper and start writing. Events play in my mind and I can’t wait to tell Kayden. I keep hold of the piece of paper, and I run down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  “What is it?” Kayden asks, setting a plate down on the island, clearly reading my urgency.

  I meet him on the opposite side of the island. “I just remembered things. Lots of things. This is what I found on the paper inside my father’s copy of the book, and it wasn’t his handwriting. It was someone else’s.” I rotate the pad to show him what I’ve printed:

  Urgent: Tell DOD, Candycand5 to RumbleRed11, bury deep. That problem is a problem.

  “What’s this address you’ve written underneath it?” Kayden asks.

  “I found it in another part of his copy of the book,” I say. “Both were torn off in tiny strips that were barely noticeable. I’d been cleaning out the house to sell it and I wanted to feel close to my dad, so I took it to bed with me to read.”